


The Depths of Hades

by Iverna



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-03-14 00:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3401180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iverna/pseuds/Iverna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Storybrooke is threatened by Davy Jones and the terrifying kraken, Emma Swan and her allies quickly find themselves up to their necks in trouble - and water. In the desperate fight to save the town and everyone in it, it’s Captain Hook who has the chance to be the hero, but at a terrible cost to himself. And if Emma wants to save him, she will have to acknowledge her feelings for the pirate, and commit to her most daring mission yet.</p>
<p>The underworld awaits. And the only way out… is through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The man known to most as Captain Hook leaned against a low wall, arms and feet crossed, wind tousling his dark hair. His relaxed stance belied the turmoil inside him as he looked out across the bay, brows drawn together, eyes squinting in the sunlight.

He’d come down here to think and to calm down, but since his thoughts insisted on circling around Emma Swan, any hope of calm seemed far-off. She was infuriating. Impossible.

The deal with the crocodile had been a bad idea. He knew that. He knew, too, that it was his own fault that he’d ended up in service to the Dark One, although the whole sorry business with the heart would have happened no matter what.

He hadn’t expected to get away with it after that initial wave of relief at his survival. Emma hadn’t broached the subject until the matter of the hat came up again – Belle was trying to find a way to release its victims, with no success so far. They’d asked him about it, and he’d confessed the whole sorry story again, this time to Emma’s face.

She was furious.

Even in that, she’d surprised him, because it wasn’t his blackmailing ways or the atrocities he’d committed in the Dark One’s service that incurred her wrath. Killian had barely begun to express his regret for those actions when she’d cut him off and told him that she’d thought that he trusted her.

He’d protested that he did, and he’d meant it, but she wasn’t having it. He hadn’t trusted her to believe him. He hadn’t trusted her to accept him the way he was.

It had gone downhill from there. He’d denied it, she’d insisted, her accusing tone had raised his hackles and his voice, and eventually he’d yelled back at her. She could hardly expect him to trust her to believe him when she hadn’t before, and she had given him reason aplenty to think that a man with one hand was not enough.

After that, he’d stormed out, needing to get away from the stricken look on her face and feeling guilt and regret coil around him as soon as his anger cleared a little.

He wished he could take it all back. But at the same time, he wasn’t quite willing to concede defeat, either. After all, she’d wanted the truth, hadn’t she? It wasn’t _his_ fault if she didn’t like it.

He rubbed a hand across his mouth and chin, feeling the stubble there scratch his fingers. He still never shaved it. He’d ditched the black leather pirate’s garb in favour of clothes from this realm, but something in him rebelled at the idea of that goody-two-shoes Prince-Charming look.

But he had changed. Ever since meeting Emma, he’d begun to rediscover parts of himself that he’d denied, or thought lost. When he’d gone back to the Enchanted Forest, back to his pirate’s life, he’d found that it no longer fit. That life had belonged to a vengeful man with no care for anyone but himself.

He couldn’t go back to that. But he couldn’t go back to the man he’d been before Liam’s death, either. He couldn’t give up the pirate completely, anymore than he’d managed to divest himself of the man of honour. It was all part of him now, and he was doing his best with everything he had.

He just wasn’t sure, anymore, that it was _enough_.

He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes briefly before looking back out over the sea. It was oddly quiet, he realised. He was pretty sure that it had been windy until a few minutes ago. The sky showed no signs of an approaching storm, but the water was too calm to be trusted.

Something caught his attention then, a brief movement out in the water. He pushed away from the wall, hand already reaching for the spyglass tucked in his jacket pocket. But he didn’t need it to tell him that that was a person out there, and he had years of experience reading the movement of people in the water. That deceptive calm, no regular motions to indicate a swimmer, no thrashing or waving or yelling – whoever that was out there, wherever he’d come from, he was drowning.

Conflicting thoughts crashed through his head. It wasn’t really his problem. He didn’t know the drowning man. Any honourable man would dive in and save him. There was no one else around. No one else would help him. No one would know if Killian let him drown, either. And the sea looked damned treacherous. And he did have something far better than vengeance to live for, these days...

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, and broke into a run. Stripping off his jacket, he let it fall behind him and reached for his belt. He stopped at the edge of the pier to kick off his boots and tug off his trousers, took one last look to mark his target, and dove into the water.

It was cold enough to drive the air from his lungs, and for a moment he remembered the last time he’d been in the water, held there by the Dark One’s magic until darkness took him. But again, years of experience took over and his muscles seemed to remember what to do before he even finished worrying about it.

Swimming was one activity where the hook was completely useless, weighing him down rather than helping in any way, but Killian had long since adjusted to that, too. Legs kicking, muscles burning, he darted forward through the water.

There were only a few bubbles and a vague dark shape to tell him that he’d reached the drowning man. Taking a deep breath, he dove.

He knew better than to open his eyes, but his foot touched something and he reached down with his hook. Another push downwards, another swipe with the hook, and he snagged something and pulled.

At first, it felt like tugging something through treacle, which was odd since bodies tended to float. Killian gritted his teeth, praying that the man hadn’t gotten tangled in a fishing net or something, because cutting him free of that without being able to see would be almost impossible. He dove down a little further, to get more leverage, and wrapped his arm around the drowning man. The pressure seemed to ease. He tugged again, kicked furiously, and then his head broke the surface of the water.

He blinked his eyes open. A dark-haired man drooped against him, eyes shut and body limp.

Killian cursed, still kicking to stay afloat, and reached with his good hand to slap the man’s cheek. “No, no, don’t do that. Come on, mate, wake up.”

Something moved to his right, beneath the waves. He caught the telltale blue-green glint, and his heart sank.

That explained why the man had been drowning... or did it?

She broke through the surface with a splash, but before he had time to panic, he recognised her. Red hair, pretty face, a mouth that looked made for smiling, and big blue eyes: Ariel. And, judging from the way her eyes widened, she recognised him, too.

But she barely gave him a glance before focusing on the man in his arms. “Eric! Is he okay? Is he alive? Eric!”

“Don’t know,” Killian managed.

“Give me your hand. And don’t let him go.” Before he could comply with the first order, she’d seized his arm, and then they were moving towards the shore. Killian quickly abandoned any attempt to help with the swimming or to right himself, settling for turning his head to avoid the waves and gripping Eric as best he could with one arm and a hook.

They reached the shore in about a quarter of the time it had taken him to reach Eric. Ariel took Eric from his arms and hauled the prince out of the water. By the time Killian had managed to get onto the pier – not an easy task with tired muscles, one hand, and water-logged clothes – Ariel was bent over Eric, trying to revive him.

Killian dropped to his knees beside the prince, looking at that too-still face. “Try it again,” he told Ariel. “You breathe. I’ll push.”

They worked in silence, desperation driving new strength into Killian’s muscles as he pushed down on Eric’s chest, trying to make the lungs do their work. They had to work. He had to live.

And live he did, sputtering and coughing in Ariel’s arms, and as Killian helped the prince sit up, he felt the weight lift from his own chest.

But Ariel didn’t seem to share his relief. “We have to get away from the water,” she said. “Please. Help me carry him.”

“He’s safe n—”

“No, he’s not! None of us are!” Ariel’s eyes were wide with appeal. “Please, you have to believe me. That’s Davy Jones out there. We have to get away from the water.”

For a moment, Killian only stared at her as his heart lurched, and the fingers of his good hand automatically curled to cover his palm to ward off the sign of the kraken, a superstitious reflex he hadn’t known he still had.

Davy Jones. The name alone was enough to drive terror into the heart of every sailor under the sun. Neither dead nor living, he was said to sail the seas in his lost ship, seeking out cursed souls to drag down into the depths of the Locker with the help of the kraken at his beck and call. Killian remembered listening to the stories as a lad, feeling that delicious shiver of fear running down his back. He’d all but forgotten about them during his time in Neverland, when he’d had other nightmares and terrors to keep him company.

“It can’t be,” he said. “He’s not of this realm. You’re back in Storybrooke, you—”

“I know where I am, Captain!” Ariel shot back. “We came here to warn you. Now come _on_.”

Her urgency combined with the lingering fear in his chest moved him back into action. He half-carried, half-tugged Eric along the pier while Ariel collected his discarded trousers, boots, and jacket, the latter of which she tucked around Eric’s now-shivering shoulders.

When they reached the end of the pier, a truck pulled up beside one of the warehouses up ahead, and Killian raised his hand, almost dropping Eric. “Hey! We need some help here!”

The driver turned out to be Leroy, who helped load Eric and Ariel into the back of the vehicle. Killian strapped in beside him as he put the truck in reverse.

“What’s going on?” he demanded.

It was, Killian reflected as he glanced back at Ariel and the shivering, sodden form of Prince Eric, a very good question.


	2. Chapter 2

Emma was staring out across the grandly titled “lake” – it was more of a pond, really, but apparently to the residents of Storybrooke it counted as a lake – when she heard footsteps, and knew that he’d found her. She sighed as the footsteps crunched over the gravel, coming closer to the bench she’d picked.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” David Nolan, better known as Prince Charming, came into view and bent down to peer at her face. “Thought I’d find you here.”

Emma pressed her lips together. She didn’t need to ask how he knew these things. He knew them because he paid attention – to her, to what she did, what she said, how she felt.

What still surprised her, every time, was that he bothered. That he cared enough to bother.

David claimed the seat beside her. “Still no luck with the hat?”

“Belle’s working on it.” She gave him a thin smile. “Turns out it didn’t really come with an instruction manual.”

“I thought Hook knew how to use it.”

“He knew how to point it at whoever Gold told him to point it at, that’s about it.” Emma clenched her fist. She didn’t want to think about that now.

“Is that why you’re mad at him?” He smiled when she looked surprised. “You came here to think, rather than down to the shore, so I’m guessing the two of you had words.”

Emma shook her head, but she couldn’t quite hide the smile. Because he _knew_. “Right.” She blew out a breath. “No. I’m not mad. Well, I am, but not because of that.”

“What happened?”

She hesitated, but she’d just experienced firsthand how it felt to not be trusted, and she’d had enough of secrets. She gave him the short version, beginning with Killian’s blackmail attempt, and ending with, “It’s the same as with Zelena. He should have _told_ me.”

David frowned. “Why did he do it to begin with? I mean, I get wanting his hand back, but he of all people should know better than to make deals with the Dark One.”

Emma pursed her lips. Trust David to cut straight to the bit she _didn’t_ want to talk about. “He said it was for me. Which is stupid,” she hurried to add, “because if I didn’t want to date a guy with a hook, I wouldn’t have asked him out to begin with.”

“True.” David gave a little nod, looking thoughtful. “Sounds like an excuse.”

_That_ wasn’t entirely fair either, much as Emma hated to admit it. “It’s not.”

“But why would he think that?” David insisted. “He should know better.”

“Well...” Emma ran a hand through her hair, but there was no way around this one. “I did say it before. About him only having one hand. When we went after Zelena, remember?”

“Ah.” David didn’t look overly surprised, only nodding again.

“But he _knows_ why I said that,” she insisted. “And besides, even if I meant it, which I didn’t, it would still be his fault because he made the deal with Gold. If he’d asked me, I’d never have wanted that.”

David’s brow furrowed, and he got that protective look on his face. “You think he’s blaming you for the whole thing?”

When he put it that way, it sounded all kinds of wrong. “No, no,” she said quickly. “He wouldn’t have apologised for it if he didn’t think it was his fault. I just—” She broke off, shaking her head. “He didn’t tell me. He didn’t trust me. How can we – I mean, what’s the point if he doesn’t trust me?”

“Ah, there it is.” David’s voice was gentle now, and it struck her that he sounded a little too understanding, a little too much like he’d expected this. Any accusation was gone from his tone, almost as though it had never been there at all. “That’s what’s bothering you, right?”

Emma said nothing. She might have admitted it to herself, but that didn’t mean she was ready to say it out loud. It scared her, really, how much this meant to her. Damn pirate and his perseverance and his uncanny ability to _get_ to her.

David reached to put an arm around her, and pulled her closer despite her show of resistance. “Come here.”

She gave in and let her head rest against his shoulder. It was warm, and solid, and real, and she felt tears sting at her eyes.

“You know,” David went on, his voice vibrating softly in his chest, “trust is something you have to build. It doesn’t just happen. You’ve got to work at it. Trust takes honesty, and honesty takes trust, so you’ve gotta build it up bit by bit.”

“I thought we had.”

“Well, you trust him, right?”

“Yeah.”

“See? That’s a good start.” His arm tightened around her. “But that took a long time, as I recall.”

Emma squeezed her eyes shut. It had taken more than just a long time. She’d never made a conscious decision to trust him, it had just happened, and she’d never thought about the fact that while he’d given her plenty of reason to trust him, she hadn’t done the same for him.

Until about an hour ago, when he’d all but thrown it in her face.

The idea that she’d messed this up already was terrifying.

“Which is understandable,” David went on. “After everything you’ve been through... and he _is_ a pirate.”

He said it lightly, with no real judgement. Emma wasn’t the only one who’d come to trust the infamous Captain Hook.

“I just...” She had to pause for a few seconds to make sure that her voice would hold, and even then she almost reconsidered saying it. “I’m not good at this.”

She didn’t elaborate, but she didn’t need to. David pulled back so he could look at her. “It’s like I said. You’ve got to work on it. You _are_ working on it. He might not have trusted you with the truth before, but he just did it now.”

“After he basically got caught.”

“That’s not the point. The only thing you got mad about is that he didn’t trust you to begin with, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And _that’s_ the point. That’s how you build trust. After Zelena’s trickery, you got mad at him for what he did. This time, he saw that you don’t care about that, that you believe him. So next time...”

She saw where he was going with it, and it made sense, but she still heaved a sigh at how complicated it all was.

David smiled. “Hey. He does trust you enough to yell back at you in an argument. Don’t undervalue that.”

She conceded that with a helpless chuckle. “Yeah. I know. It’s just... I don’t know.”

Her father nodded. “I do. You mess up, and you worry: what if I keep messing up? What if I can’t do this? What if she—he—decides it’s not worth it? But listen.”

He reached for her, putting a hand on her shoulder, his blue eyes intense with sincerity. “ _You_ are worth it. Trust me on that. If he can't see it, _he's_ not worth it. I waited twenty-eight years to see you again, and it was worth every minute.”

He looked, and sounded, so damn sure. Emma had to fight more tears. If anyone had told her, a few years ago, that being cared for and having a home was almost harder to deal with, to accept, than being abandoned, she would have scoffed at them. But there it was. It still made her cry, every time.

Her phone began to ring, saving her from the feelings that threatened to overwhelm her. She pushed away from her father, surreptitiously wiping away a couple of runaway tears as she reached for her pocket.

It was her mother.

“Emma? We need you at the loft. Is David with you?”

“Yeah.” Emma frowned as she pressed the phone to her ear. There were voices in the background, sounding worried and hectic. “What’s going on?”

“Hook and Leroy just brought Ariel and Eric here. They said something ab—”

“Wait, Ariel?” Emma was already on her feet and gesturing for David to follow her. “I thought she was—”

“Back in our land, I know. Something’s happened. I’m not sure...”

Someone else spoke, coming closer to Snow’s phone, and Emma recognised the voice as Killian’s. “... talk to her?”

Snow again: “Hold on, I’m handing you ov— _Killian_ , it’s this way up.” There was a brief scuffle as she apparently handed the phone to the pirate.

“Swan?” His voice was all business, no trace of any resentment or anger he may have still been feeling. “I’m afraid we may have something of a situation. Ariel claims that Davy Jones has managed to traverse the realms and is headed for Storybrooke.”

“Davy Jones?” Emma echoed, feeling her eyes widen. “As in the guy with the face full of tentacles?”

“Tentacles?” He sounded completely puzzled. By now, Emma knew what that meant: he hadn’t seen the movie, and once again, the movie had gotten a few things wrong. “No, the kraken is the one with the tentacles, love.”

Her eyes widened further. “There’s a kraken, too?”

David was keeping pace with her and shooting her worried glances, so she put Killian on speaker and held the phone out in front of her as they hurried along the path.

“I hope rather fervently that we can avoid that,” Killian was saying. “But given our track record so far, I wouldn’t bet on it.”

“We’re on our way,” Emma told him. “See you there.”

“Aye.” There was more scuffling, followed by a distant “how the bloody hell do you hang _this_ one?” before the line went dead.

Emma shoved the phone back into her pocket and looked at David. Neither of them said a word as they broke into a run.

 

*  *  *

 

By the time Emma and David reached the loft, the panic she’d heard through the phone seemed to have calmed down somewhat. Snow was standing behind the kitchen island, making tea and occasionally glancing at Killian, who was leaning against the other side of the counter. He was rocking baby Neal on one arm, having apparently just managed to calm the boy down from a crying fit, and talking to Snow in a hushed voice.

At the other end of the room, a red-haired young woman was kneeling by the bed, her eyes glued to the dark-haired man lying in it. They, too, were talking quietly.

“Oh, you’re here,” Snow exclaimed, relief evident on her face. “Leroy’s gone to help evacuate everyone from the harbour and anywhere near the shore, just in case, and I called Regina. She’ll pick Henry up from school and keep him safe.”

“Safe from what, exactly?” Emma asked. “You’re really telling me that Davy Jones is coming to Storybrooke?”

The last was addressed mostly to Killian, who shrugged and gestured towards Ariel with his hook, a slightly forced smile on his face. “I’m just the messenger, love.”

Emma shook her head. The last – and only – time she’d seen Ariel was when she’d watched through the mirror as the mermaid reunited with her prince. “What happened? You just helped her find Eric a few weeks ago.”

Killian looked uncomfortable. “Like I said before, that wasn’t my doing. In fact, the truth is rather different—”

“And you’re soaked,” Emma cut him off as she focused on him properly. It wasn’t quite true, but he did look like he’d just emerged from the shower. His hair was sticking up every which way from being towelled, and if she wasn’t mistaken, that was one of David’s flannel shirts he was wearing. It was black and red with a little bit of white, and she vaguely recalled her mother debating whether or not to throw it out, since David never wore it. “Are you—What did you _do_?”

“He saved Eric and me from drowning,” Ariel said as she came up to join them. She smiled at Emma. “Hi. You must be Emma. I’m Ariel.”

Emma managed a brief smile back. “Hi. Nice to—wait, _drowning_? Aren't you a mermaid?”

Ariel’s smile turned a little sheepish. “Even mermaids can be pulled down to Davy Jones’ locker. If Hook hadn’t shown up when he did, we’d both be down there now.” She looked up at the pirate. “How did you do that, by the way? You showed up, and somehow, whatever was pulling us down just let go when you came closer. Why didn’t it grab you, too?”

Killian looked confused. “I merely helped get Eric to the surface.”

Ariel shook her head, damp curls flying around her face. “No, I could have done that myself. You did something.”

“Yes.” Killian’s voice took on a note of strained patience. “I dove in, grabbed Eric, and pulled him to the surface. It did feel like something was holding onto him, but if there was, it retreated of its own accord. I did nothing.”

“You saved him. You saved us both.” Ariel gave him a look that was part challenge, part defiance. “I knew there was something to the stories, after all.”

Emma wasn’t sure what exactly passed between them, then, but she saw the guilt that flashed across Killian’s face. “You remember?”

“Yeah.” Ariel looked down. “I remember.”

Emma knew what that referred to – the lost year, the one she’d spent in New York. Killian had spent it trying to recover his past life as a pirate. Evidently, he’d run across Ariel in that time. _And done what?_

Ariel was in love with Eric, Emma reminded herself. And besides, it was in the past. Walsh was in that same past. It was unlikely. And it didn’t matter.

But she couldn’t seem to let the thought go.

“I’m sorry,” Killian said, his voice turning a little scratchy. “I’m so sorry, Ariel. I was wrong. About everything. I—”

“Do you even know what you did?” Ariel cut him off. “I wouldn’t have needed to trade with Davy Jones if you’d helped me! Why couldn’t you just _help_ me?”

Emma looked from one to the other, totally at a loss now. Killian seemed to remember that they had an audience, and he seemed to resign himself to something. “Wait, we... I need to talk to you, Swan. In fact, perhaps the three of us ought to talk.”

Without a word, David took Neal from Killian while Snow glanced at Ariel, then at her husband. Sending a brief smile at Emma, Snow took the tea she’d made over to Eric, while David wandered after her, gently rocking his son.

“Okay, spill,” Emma said. “Why did Ariel need help from Davy Jones? Was that about Eric? I thought you two figured that out.”

Killian squeezed his eyes shut briefly. “She was never here, Swan. It was just one of Zelena’s tricks, conjured to manoeuvre me into saying what she needed in order to curse me.”

“What?” Emma stared at him, then narrowed her eyes. “So you lied.”

He couldn’t quite meet her gaze. “Technically, I merely avoided telling you the truth. I wanted to, but I couldn’t, not without exposing what Zelena had done. Had I done that, she would have come after your family. After your boy.” He looked down, fingers playing with his hook. “And afterwards – you said that the past didn’t matter, and I didn’t want to drag it back up. I’m not proud of what I did.”

“What happened?”

 He told her. In that same scratchy, regret-filled voice, he told her what he’d done, embellishing nothing, leaving out nothing. He’d traded a man’s life for his ship.

“Why?” she asked when he wound down. “Why would you do that?”

“Because it was all I had left,” he said. Emma could see the guilt of it weighing him down, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. His jaw clenched. “I thought I could go back to how it was, reclaim my old life, before...” He pressed his lips together and briefly glanced at Emma. “Before you.”

He blew out a slightly shaky breath. “It didn’t work. It just made it worse. The only reason why I no longer regret it is that having the ship meant I had a way back to you.”

Emma clenched her hands, physically restraining herself from reaching for him. She couldn't, not now. Everything in her wanted to touch him, comfort him, do _something_ to make that look go away.

But now was not the time. _It never is_ , a voice inside her pointed out. She did her best to ignore it. She couldn’t. Not here, not now, not with the last argument still hanging between them.

“So you do have a heart, after all,” Ariel said softly.

Killian swallowed, hard. “Aye. I’m sorry. I really, truly am. I wish I could take it back. If I can make it up to you, I will.”

“Don’t.” Ariel held up a hand. “Don’t. You don’t owe me.” She blew out a breath. “I betrayed you to him, you know. To Davy Jones. I told him how to find you.” She burst into tears. “I didn’t—I was so angry! And he said he’d help me get to Eric, and I thought, you deserved it... I didn’t know he only wanted you in order to get to all of Storybrooke. I should never have made the deal. I was just as selfish as you were.”

That didn’t sound good at all. Guilt and regrets aside, this sounded like very bad news. “What do you mean, all of Storybrooke?” Emma demanded. “What does he want?”

“The only thing Davy Jones ever wants,” Ariel said, looking at her with tear-filled eyes. “He’s after souls. Cursed souls, to drag down to his locker.

“And he knows that Storybrooke is full of them.”


	3. Chapter 3

Emma was all for heading down to the harbour to see what they were up against, but Killian had managed to persuade her that his way was better. Now they stood on a rooftop, Emma with a pair of binoculars, Killian with his spyglass, looking out towards the sea.

It was calm. Unnaturally so. The wind was blowing Emma’s hair into her face and catching in Killian’s jacket, but there was no wave on the water.

“Okay, that’s weird,” Emma allowed, lowering the contraption she was holding and letting out a sigh. “All right. Tell me about Davy Jones.”

“Well, he’s an old seafarer’s legend,” Killian said. “He’s said to wander the seas, never to die, seeking out cursed souls to drag down to the depths. And he commands the kraken. I gather you’ve heard of that?”

He was never sure which part of his world featured in the stories in Emma’s world, just like she was never sure whether the stories had gotten it right. She cocked her head to the side and squinted. “Big monster with tentacles that attacks ships?”

“Aye, that’s about the measure of it,” he said. “It’s said that if you ever lay eyes on Davy Jones, he may mark you with the sign of the kraken, in which case will hunt you down, destroy your ship, and drag you down to the depths.”

Emma grimaced. “Let’s avoid that.”

The thought of it was enough to send a shiver down his back. “Agreed.”

“How do we kill him? Or... chase him off, or whatever?”

“You do realise that I lack any and all personal experience with this, don’t you?” he asked. “I only know what the legends say.”

She made an impatient gesture with her hand. “Right. So tell me what the legends say.”

“It’s said that he keeps his heart somewhere on land, in a box that only he can open. Without the heart, he can’t die, so I would assume that you need it to kill him.”

“I thought he was already dead.”

“Perhaps his heart is the one part of him that still lives.” Killian shrugged. “Or perhaps it’s a metaphor. I don’t know how these things work, love, that’s more Regina’s métier. Although if we’re looking for information on legends, perhaps we ought to ask Belle.”

“Right. Okay, let’s go talk to her.”

Killian hesitated. Between their earlier fight and the revelation of what he’d done to Ariel, he was less sure than ever where they stood right now. Emma hadn’t said anything about either; she’d gone into full Saviour mode, focused only on this new crisis.

He didn’t know how to reach her. But he couldn’t wait for her to broach the subject, either. She’d avoid it, and it would hang between them until he brought it up or she found a new reason to yell at him.

“I apologise for my earlier outburst. I lost my temper, and I’m sorry I upset you.”

She opened her mouth, and he could almost hear the brush-off she was about to give him, but she never voiced it. Instead, she shook her head, and shifted her stance impatiently. “What _upset_ me was that you didn’t trust me. And,” she held up both hands, “I get it. After some of the things I said, you know, I get it. I just thought you understood.”

“I do,” he said. And he did. In a way, that made it worse. At the time, he’d understood Emma’s rather inconsiderate remarks as exactly what they’d been: attempts to push him away, even keep him out of danger. It was only afterwards, when she’d finally begun to give him a real chance, that the doubts had started whispering in his mind.

He tried for a smile. “Like I said, I lost my temper. It won’t happen ag—”

“Oh, no,” she cut him off. “Stop it. I’m a big girl, I can handle a bit of yelling. At least _that_ was honest.”

He winced, but she was right. He’d always been up-front with her about how he felt, at least once he’d figured it out himself. He inclined his head. “Fair enough.”

She hesitated. “Look, if you really thought...” She ran a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry, too.”

She looked uncertain, and it took him a moment to realise why. He wasn’t the only one charting new waters with this relationship. He ached to reach for her, but he wasn't sure how that would go over right now, so he held back. “Not your fault, love. As you said, I understood. I should have known better.”

She smiled, but she still looked a little uncomfortable. “Well, I’m not one to judge there. I—”

A scream cut her off. “Help! Somebody help!”

In unison, they glanced towards the sound, then back at each other, then moved. For once, Killian was half a step ahead of Emma as they clattered down the fire escape and onto the street. Emma steadied herself on his shoulder as she caught up to him, just in time to hear another scream, wordless this time.

She tugged at his arm briefly. “This way.”

The screams were coming from a house just down the street, through an open window on the first floor. Emma tried the door, then she tried kicking it down, and then she closed her eyes and gestured with one hand.

The door flew open.

Emma ran in and up the stairs, Killian on her heels with his sabre in hand.

“Help! No, no no no, please! Mom! No!”

They burst into what turned out to be a bathroom. Two women were leaning over the bathtub, one of them with her head in the water, thrashing and apparently caught on something. The other, no more than a girl really, was trying desperately to pull her out. She looked like she was slipping, coming dangerously close to the water herself.

Emma was beside the drowning woman in an instant, catching her around the waist and tugging. Immediately, she seemed to slip as well, her elbow landing in the water. With an effort, she pulled it free.

That was not good.

“Swan, don’t!” Killian dropped the sabre and caught Emma’s arm, pulling her away from the woman, whose panicked movements had stopped now. That wasn’t good, either. “Use your magic!”

She nodded, and he let go of her and took her place beside the drowning woman. The girl on the other side was still screaming, and Killian could almost feel her desperation fuel his muscles. He caught hold of the woman with hook and hand, and pulled.

Just like with Eric, it was much harder than dragging someone through water ought to have been, but after a moment, the resistance seemed to fade away. A heartbeat later, the woman was suddenly so light that he staggered backwards and she landed half on top of him.

“Mom!” The girl was there in an instant, bending over the woman as Killian rolled away from her. “Mom!”

“Move.” Killian pushed the girl unceremoniously aside and set about reviving her mother. He had to push down on her chest three times before she finally sputtered and started coughing, turning her head to the side to spit out water. He helped her sit as the girl broke free of where Emma had been holding her back.

“Mom!”

“’m okay, Lisa.” The woman started coughing again and looked up at Killian with reddened, waterlogged eyes. “Thank you.”

“What happened?” Emma demanded, dropping to her knees beside Killian. “What was that?”

“I don’t know, I was ch—” She coughed again. “Checking the water for Lisa when something just pulled me in. It wouldn’t let go.”

“I felt it,” Lisa added. She couldn’t have been older than eleven or twelve, Killian thought, her dark eyes wide with fear and adrenaline, her features taut with shock. “It tried to pull me in, too.”

“In the bath?” Emma was looking at Killian, her expression almost pleading. “He can get people in the bath? Really?”

“It would appear so,” Killian said darkly. “We’d better warn the others.”

“And we’d better get out of here,” Emma added. “I think—”

Killian followed her gaze to his left, and felt his blood freeze. A man stood beside the bath, dripping water onto the floor. He looked to be in his forties, bearded and grey-faced, and he was dressed in old-fashioned pirate’s garb, complete with the kind of hat that Killian had only ever seen in paintings.

“Lisa, get your mother out of here,” Emma said evenly, getting to her feet. “Now.”

The girl scrambled out of the way, but Killian’s attention was on Emma and the man who could only be Davy Jones. “Swan...”

“You should not have interfered.” Jones’ voice was deep and scratchy, his accent rough. “Her soul was mine. Now I shall have yours.”

He gestured towards the bath, but Emma stayed where she was, a faint glow briefly visible around her.

“Witch!” Davy Jones’ face grew dark with fury, and he took a step towards Emma. “But even a witch cannot escape the kraken!”

There was no time to think. There was barely time to move. “No! No, no, no!” was all Killian managed as he threw himself forward, shoving his way past Emma, desperate to get her out of the way.

Cold fingers touched his chest. He looked up into the dead eyes of Davy Jones, feeling his heart hammer in his ears.

The undead pirate smiled. “Fool,” he said.

Behind him, Emma yelled his name, voice cracking. “Hook!”

Killian looked down at the other man’s hand, fingers splayed out like a claw against his chest. So that was how he gave you the mark, he thought, distantly. _Well, then. Good to know._

But Davy Jones frowned, growled, and seized Killian’s good hand with a fluid movement. Turning it over, he looked at the palm.

Apparently, something was supposed to happen there, but it looked the same as ever. Snarling, Jones withdrew his hand and released Killian’s. “Witchcraft!” he growled, and shoved Killian away with surprising strength.

He wasn’t sure what happened next. He hit the tiled floor with a thud, briefly disoriented. By the time he’d cleared the black from his vision, Davy Jones was gone and Emma was kneeling beside him.

“Hook! You okay? Killian!”

“Fine, love,” he grunted. “’re is he?”

“I’m not sure.” Emma was breathless, her eyes still wild as they always were after a fight. “I put up a protection shield like Regina taught me, and he disappeared. What did he do to you?”

“Nothing.”

Her frown deepened. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying.” He felt gingerly at the back of his head where he’d hit the wall. It stung where the skin had broken, and he could already feel a slight swelling. “Nothing worse than a bruise, anyway.”

“Killian, I _heard_ what he said about the kraken.”

He glanced at his hand reflexively, but it still looked completely normal, the skin unmarked. “Well, whatever he had planned, I don’t think it worked,” he said.

“I’m taking you to Belle,” Emma said, seizing his arm as they both got to their feet. “She’s got to have a book somewhere that can tell us more about Davy Jones. If there’s a kraken coming after you, I want to know about it. Damn it!” She stopped abruptly, turning so that he almost ran into her. “What were you _thinking_?”

He knew what she was talking about, but he still had a shock of his own to get over. “Me? _You’re_ the one who charged in there and almost got yourself drowned by association.”

“I didn’t throw myself at Davy Jones!”

“As I recall, you didn’t have to, he was already right there!”

They glared at each other. Killian broke first, pulling her into a hug, and she all but fell against him. He took a breath and felt the tremble in it as the adrenaline began to drain out of him. It was all right. She was all right.

After a moment, she pulled away and he let her go. “Okay, let’s just...” She reached up to tuck her hair back out of her face, visibly collecting herself. “Let’s just go figure this out.”

“Aye.” He remembered something else. “And call your parents. Now that we know he’s not confined to the sea...”

“Warn everyone to stay away from water,” Emma finished, already digging out her phone. “Including the bath. Wait, what about – we have pipes everywhere.”

Killian thought about it. “You can’t drown in a pipe. Besides, in all the legends, Davy Jones is the terror of the high seas, not a ghost in the plumbing.”

“Funny,” Emma growled, but he caught the hint of a smile as she lifted her phone to her ear. “Dad! Listen...”

By the time Emma had finished updating David about the situation – leaving out the part about the kraken, Hook couldn’t help but notice – and reassuring him that she was fine, they had reached the pawn shop.

He hated the place. It was partly because of the owner, but even if he hadn’t spent countless years harbouring a personal grudge for the man, the shop itself made his skin crawl. It wasn’t because everything in it was stolen. Killian had done plenty of stealing in his time, and a pirate could hardly take the moral high ground when it came to theft. But the objects in Gold’s shop weren’t just trinkets he’d stolen for money. Some, perhaps many, were trophies. Prizes he’d taken from his enemies and his victims. Every object might have a story behind it, and every time Killian set foot in the shop, he couldn’t help wonder at the tragedies that lay behind the pair of wooden dolls, the little golden cage, the dainty-looking knife, the jewel-encrusted ring.

 The fact that he’d been confronted with these ponderings quite frequently lately, bound to the Dark One as he had been, didn’t help.

At least Rumplestiltskin wasn’t there himself, banished beyond the town line as he was, but Killian swore that something of his presence still lingered. He didn’t understand how Belle could bear to keep it open and spend so much time here.

Then again, maybe that was the reason why she did it.

She was standing behind the counter, bent over – what else? – a book. She looked up when they entered, and her gaze swept from Emma to Killian, lingering on him. He tried to ignore the stab of guilt reminding him that he had a heart again – thanks to her.

She smiled back, although he could see the worry behind it. He couldn’t blame her; she knew that they wouldn’t come here on a simple shopping trip. “Can I help you?”

 “I hope so,” Emma said as she strode up to the counter. “We really need your help.”

Belle’s smile faltered a little. “What’s going on?”

Killian joined Emma at the counter, looking across at the woman he’d once tried to hurt and marvelling, once again, at the lack of fear or hatred in her eyes. “What do you know about Davy Jones?”


	4. Chapter 4

Killian and Belle were both bent over a book, discussing something in low tones, when Will Scarlet entered the shop. Emma looked over from where she was leaning against the counter, another book in her hand, to see him come to an abrupt stop, his face taking on a wary expression.

“Sheriff,” he said, his tone just as guarded as his expression.

 “Will,” Belle said with a smile – a brighter one than Emma had seen from her in a while. “You’re okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he countered. He had a smile for Belle, but it faded against as his gaze slid over to Killian. “Let me guess. The pirate and the saviour. That’s got to mean trouble.”

Killian glowered at him. “We’re not the ones at fault, Scarlet.”

“Of course not,” Will agreed, in much the same tone. Emma suppressed a sigh. But she could hardly blame Will for not getting along with Killian. She knew firsthand how much of a challenge that was.

Belle cleared her throat, giving Killian a look before turning her attention back to Will. “We’re trying to decipher a passage in that old book about seafaring legends. Do you know anything about Davy Jones?”

Will frowned. “He’s a legend.”

“Apparently not just a legend,” Belle said. “Hook says he’s here.”

“Ah, well, if _Hook_ says so, it must be true,” Will said. “Davy Jones is a pirate’s superstition, nothing more.”

“He’s here,” Emma cut in. “He attacked us and almost drowned Eric and Ariel.”

Will shrugged. “And that means he’s a living legend?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “If it wasn’t Davy Jones, it was some other creepy, homicidal pirate with a temper.”

Will only raised his eyebrows and looked at Hook, who bristled again.

 “Who likes to drown people in bathtubs and tried to kill us both,” Emma went on, feeling her own temper rise.

Will frowned. “Why?”

“Ariel says he’s here for cursed souls,” Belle said.

Will shot her a sharp look. “In other words, everyone here.”

“Except you,” she said. “And a few others who escaped the queen’s curse.” Her expression became imploring. “You’ve been to a few realms. Are you sure you’ve never heard of him?”

Emma exchanged a startled look with Killian, saw that this was news to him as well. She barely knew Will Scarlet. Apparently, Belle knew him a lot better.

Suddenly, his presence here, and that smile on Belle’s face, made a lot more sense.

“Heard of him, sure,” Will said. “He’s a pirate legend. I’ve never actually run across him.” That last was said with a questioning look at Hook.

The pirate shook his head. “Nor I. Until about ten minutes ago, that is.”

“We need more information,” Emma said. “

“There are a few references to still water in the stories,” Belle added, gesturing at the book on the counter. “And it’s in the language, too – the calm before the storm, still waters run deep. I haven’t found any reference to baths, though.”

 “Maybe because pirates don’t bathe,” Will suggested, which earned him another glare from Killian.

 “Assuming Davy Jones does exist,” Killian said in a tone that made it clear that he was taking the higher road here, “it would stand to reason that he’s the danger behind such warnings. Similar stories exist about lakes and ponds.”

“But not bathtubs,” Belle said.

“Except at least a hundred scenes in horror movies,” Emma added. She’d meant it as a wry remark, but they all frowned at her like she’d started speaking another language. “You know? The pretty blonde’s in the bath, something creeps out and drags her under, and goes on a two-hour long killing spree?” She looked at their blank expressions, and realisation caught up to her. Neither Hook nor Belle had been here long enough to see a lot of movies, and now that she thought about it, Will didn’t strike her as the type to be a horror fan. “Never mind.”

“Well, there’s our story, I suppose,” Belle said. “But why here, and not – oh.”

“Oh?” Emma echoed.

“The plumbing,” Belle said excitedly. “It connects to the sea, doesn’t it?”

Emma saw where she was going with that before the two men seemed to. “In a really roundabout way, I guess, yeah. You think that’s how he’s able to get around? To exert his... I don’t know, is it even magic?”

Before anyone could reply, the door to the shop burst open, making Emma jump. She and Killian turned in unison, Killian’s hand already going for his sabre.

But it was Regina who strode through the door, followed by David, Snow, and Henry. David had the ever-present diaper bag slung over one shoulder, while Snow pushed the stroller with the baby.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” Snow said breathlessly, glancing at Emma and Killian.

“We need your help,” David added to Belle.

Emma’s first worry was for Henry, but the boy seemed fine, helping Snow with the stroller and sending worried glances at Regina.

Regina looked pale, Emma realised. But the determination in her face as strong as ever as she strode up to the counter. “What do you know about this?”

She held up her hand, palm out. Emma craned her neck, and felt her heart give a little lurch. Regina’s palm was blackened, the dark patch forming the shape of an oval with messy lines sticking out from it. _Like a rotting sun_ , the thought came to Emma’s mind.

Belle took Regina’s hand and turned it to inspect the palm. Emma felt movement beside her as Killian stepped closer, leaning against her shoulder as he tried to see.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered.

Emma leaned a little closer to him, keeping her voice low. “Guess we know it works.”

He swallowed. “Aye.”

“I was getting a bath ready for Henry,” Regina was saying, “and something tried to push me into the water. I had to use magic to stop it, and when I did, there was a man there. He grabbed me, put his hand on my chest—” she touched the area just under her collarbone to demonstrate “—and said something about the kraken getting me out of the way. Then he disappeared, and I noticed this.” She nodded at her hand. “What is it?”

Belle swallowed. “If I had to guess,” she said, “that’s the mark of the kraken.”

“The kraken?” David echoed. “As in the big thing with tentacles that eats ships for breakfast?”

“And dinner,” Killian said. “Aye. We were just looking into that.”

“You were?” Regina repeated. “Why? Did you know?” Her eyes narrowed. “Did you have something to do with this?”

“I may be a pirate, but I’m not allied with Davy Jones,” Killian told her, a little stiffly.

“We ran into him as well,” Emma said before they could bicker further. “He tried to put the mark on Hook, too.” She seized his hand and checked the palm again, just to make sure. But the skin was still unmarked, save for the few calluses that came with a lifetime of sailing the seas.

“He _what?_ ” David asked, looking from her to Killian. “You didn’t mention that!”

“Are you okay?” Snow actually looked worried as she, too, looked Killian up and down.

“Aye,” he assured her, and though he hid it well, Emma caught his surprise at all the concern. David had mostly accepted Killian as part of the team, if nothing else, but Snow had been slow to warm up to him.

And then, there was the added surprise at the fact that anyone had concern for him in the first place. That, Emma understood completely.

He regarded his own hand, and Emma realised that she was still holding it. She let go, and he shot her a look she couldn’t quite read as he showed the others his palm. “It doesn’t appear to have worked. Anymore than he was able to touch Emma.”

Emma could see the renewed concern on her parents’ faces at that, and spoke quickly to forestall it. “And now I _really_ want to know why.” She looked at Regina. “I felt the same thing you did, like an invisible hand trying to pull me under. But Killian wasn’t affected by it. Any idea why?”

“Perhaps it’s something about the hook,” Killian said impatiently. “Perhaps whatever he does only affects flesh and blood. Or perhaps it’s because I wasn’t cursed.”

“Neither was Emma. And it doesn’t explain how you escaped the mark of the kraken,” Belle said.

“Performance issues, perhaps,” Hook suggested, an annoyed edge creeping into his voice. “Can we move on to the business of figuring out how to kill him?”

“That might be related,” Regina said. She looked a little pale, but determined. “If you’re immune, that might give us an advantage. If it’s magic, I should be able to trace it.”

“I’ll keep looking here,” Belle said, indicating the stack of books on the counter.

Emma thought briefly of sending Henry home, but it was a pointless instinct, left over from her time in New York. He already knew what was going on. Besides, with her and Regina here, and Killian’s as-of-yet-unexplained talent for rescuing Davy Jones’ victims, this was probably the safest place for him.

He seemed to pick up on her impulse to send him home, because he quickly volunteered his help, with a look that pleaded with her to let him stay.

“I can help,” he said. “I’ll watch the baby and read him stories.” He held up a book of seafaring legends that Belle had brought out with the others, although this one was clearly written for children.

Emma chuckled. “That kid is getting some strange bedtime stories.”

“Read him the one about the pirate and the mermaid,” Killian told him. “That’s a good one.”

Henry grinned. “Awesome.” He busied himself with flicking through the pages.

“Way to encourage him,” Emma muttered to Killian, but he only grinned as well, shrugging one shoulder.

“Whenever you’re ready, Miss Swan,” Regina broke in, “I need to borrow your pirate.”

Emma felt her patience strain at his phrasing. Why did she _always_ have to do that?

Her first instinct was to insist that Killian wasn’t _her_ pirate and could do as he pleased, but she caught herself just in time. That would only make an issue of it. Besides, once she’d gotten over the instinctive annoyance at these jibes, she’d begun to hear the longing behind them. Regina’s time with Robin had been a brief reprieve from it, and his leaving could only have made it worse. Emma knew how that went.

So instead, she ignored the dig. “You find something?”

“Maybe.” She gestured at Killian. “Well, come on, I don’t bite.”

“Very reassuring,” Killian muttered, but he crossed the room to where Regina stood, leaving Emma to get back to the book she’d been looking through.

She kept half an eye on the two of them from across the room, because Killian, Regina, and a tense situation was not a good combination. Especially not with Will Scarlet around to throw in the occasional sarcastic comment. The others talked, Belle handing David a book and Snow making a comment about something to her, but Emma stayed silent and alert.

She hadn’t even made it through half the book when things suddenly got loud again.

 

*  *  *

 

“You’re bloody daft,” Hook exclaimed, staring at the former evil queen. “He’s a dead legend, how the bloody hell can anyone be descended from him?”

“Presumably anything relevant would have taken place before the ‘dead legend’ part,” Regina said, her tone grating on Hook’s nerves. “In case you’ve forgotten, Snow White is something of a legend too, and yet here we are with her daughter and grandson.”

“What’s going on?” Snow asked. “Did you find something?”

Hook gestured at Regina. “We seem to have found her Majesty’s over-active imagination.”

“All right, calm down.” David put a hand on his shoulder, looking past him at the others. “What’s the matter?”

“We know why Hook was able to dodge all of Davy Jones’ attacks,” Regina said. “He’s descended from him. They share a bloodline, so it’s like blood magic. In this case, it means that whatever power Davy Jones has, it can’t affect Hook.”

“So he is immune,” Emma said. She’d all but jumped forward when Hook had shouted at Regina, and he was willing to bet she hadn’t made it through half of her book, if she’d read it at all. On edge, as usual.

“Apparently,” Regina said. “Davy Jones has no magic of his own. His power comes from his curse, and the fact that he’s dead without being dead. There’s only one way to escape that kind of power.”

“And there’s the surname,” Belle added, a note of excitement in her voice as she put it together. “Jones. It fits.”

Killian ran a hand over his chin. Unfortunately, it really did fit, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He’d always known that the sea was in his blood. But this?

“Figures,” Emma said on a sigh.

He didn’t like that idea, that it somehow made sense. He had nothing in common with Davy Jones. _Don’t you?_ “How does it figure?”

Emma raised her eyebrows. “Are you kidding? He had to be related to _someone_ around here. That’s pretty much a law at this point.”

Beside Killian, David chuckled, a sound caught halfway between amusement and resignation. “It does seem that way sometimes.” He clapped Killian on the shoulder. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m kind of glad it’s you this time. Our family tree has been getting pretty crowded.”

Killian made a face at the two of them. “Something I’ve never envied you for.” And this was not how he’d envisioned adding to his, although he wasn’t about to say anything about _that_ in present company.

Emma looked away and cleared her throat. “Right. So. We know he can’t harm Hook, and we know magic can drive him off. What else?”

“We know that he’s a dead man stuck in the land of the living,” Regina said. “The legend says that he keeps his heart in a chest, right?”

He addressed that question to Regina, who nodded. “Aye. But it also says that he can’t walk on land save once every ten years.”

“I think I’ve figured that out,” Belle said. “I think it’s because the pipes connect everything to the sea. And I’d bet that he was standing in a puddle when he attacked you.”

“Getting past the terms on a technicality,” Emma muttered. She sighed. “Pirate.”

Killian shot her a look, but there was no judgement in her face or voice, only a little exasperation.

“My best guess is that the heart is what anchors him to this world,” Regina said. “Stab the heart, kill the pirate.”

“ _Find_ the heart first,” Killian reminded her. “And since he doesn’t keep it with him, that could be difficult. Pirates are rather good at hiding treasure.”

“If it’s out there, we’ll find it,” Snow said, and David nodded.

“Finding things is something _we’re_ rather good at.”

“Wait.” Regina looked at Killian. “If Hook’s related to Davy Jones, then we may already have a shortcut to finding his heart. There’s a spell I learned from my mother for tracking down a heart. I should be able to find Davy Jones’ heart using Hook’s.”

 “ _Use_ it how?” he asked, immediately suspicious.

Regina favoured him with one of her many patronising smirks. “You can relax, the process is non-invasive and totally painless.”

He believed her. That surprised him. But it didn’t quench the fear that gripped his chest like a vice. He didn’t want any magic anywhere near his heart. Especially not hers.

He gave her a smile just as fake as hers had been. “No, thank you.”

“It’s the fastest way,” Regina said. “Maybe even the only way. Are you really going to be a child about it?”

Killian glared. As if he didn’t have reason to be wary. As if this was just an illogical whim. But he couldn’t say that, any of it. He could barely admit it to himself.

But, for once, he didn’t have to.

“Oh, come on, you can’t blame him for being a little reluctant,” David told Regina.

Snow nodded. “Maybe there’s another way. Maybe Emma can do it.”

“Me?” Emma looked from her mother, to Killian, and back again. “But I’m not... I mean, I’ve never—I don’t even know how.”

“Well, Regina learned it,” Snow said reasonably. “And she’s been teaching you.”

“Yeah, but...” Emma shook her head. “What if I mess it up?”

And right then, Killian knew that if she was willing to try it, he would let her. Perversely, her doubts were reassuring. He’d wondered about that before, about why Emma’s magic never scared or worried him, why he felt reassured by her doubts even as he tried to help dispel them.

It wasn’t about his feelings for her, or even about magic. It was about power. Emma didn’t use her magic for power; she was reluctant to use it at all. Rumplestiltskin and Regina, on the other hand, sometimes seemed almost like addicts, using it every chance they got. It was a little like the boys learning to climb the rigging, he thought. The overconfident ones always fell at least once. The ones who made it first try were those who kept a healthy amount of doubt, an awareness that the ship and the sails and especially the sea and the wind were bigger and stronger than they were.

 “You won’t,” he said to Emma. “And I’m afraid it’s you or no one.”

Her expression stayed wary. “Killian, I’m not the expert here.”

“It’s not that complicated,” Regina said, unexpectedly dropping the attitude. “I can walk you through it. _If_ you listen.”

After another brief hesitation, Emma nodded. “Fine. So say we find the heart. Then what?”

“Then we stab it and open a gate to the underworld so he can pass through to the other side,” Regina said.

She made it sound easy. Emma wasn’t buying it any more than Hook was. “Of course. We just open a gate to the underworld. Sounds easy.”

Regina caught her sarcasm. “Of course it isn’t easy. If it were easy, people would try it all the time. But there is a way.”

“You can do it?” Snow asked.

“With the right tools and determination, anyone can,” Regina said. “There just isn’t any point, usually. You can’t bring someone back from the land of the dead. What’s dead must stay dead.”

No one asked how she knew. If there was a way to bring someone back from the dead, she would have found and done it long before now.

“I can enchant an object so that it will open a gate when we’re ready,” Regina went on. “Trust me, the hardest part will be getting the heart.”

“Right.” Emma blew out a breath and looked at Killian and Regina. “Looks like we have a plan. So. How do we find the heart?”

Regina hesitated and gave Killian a look that almost seemed apologetic. “You might want to find somewhere to sit down.”


	5. Chapter 5

Emma sat down on the edge of narrow bed in the back of Gold’s shop, not at all sure that she wanted to do this. Killian settled back against the pillows, his every movement casual, but she could see the tension in his movements even as he tried to look relaxed.

She looked up at Regina, who’d pulled up a chair. “You’re sure this is safe.”

“You should be more worried about it not working,” Regina told her. She rolled her eyes. “Relax, Emma. You won’t hurt him. The idea is to feel his heartbeat and trace the echo. Think of it as looking, not interfering.”

Emma looked back at Killian. “And you’re sure you’re okay with this.”

“I don’t see much choice, love,” he said. “ _If_ Her Majesty is correct about my lineage, this would appear to be our only realistic hope of locating the bastard’s heart.”

“Trust me, I’m correct,” Regina said a little coldly. “I know about blood magic. I also know about unexpected wicked relatives. Not the kind of thing you _want_ in your life, but at least we can use this one to our advantage.”

“I meant are you sure you’re okay with me doing this,” Emma clarified, before they could argue further. “I don’t have half as much experience as Regina with this stuff.”

“Aye, but the experience you do have is rather less lethal than hers,” Killian pointed out, slanting a look at Regina. “No offence. I’d trust Emma over myself, too.”

And there it was. Trust.

She’d been furious, earlier, when she’d realised that the whole reason why he’d gotten into that mess with Gold was that he hadn’t trusted her to believe him. She’d been even more furious when he’d implied that it was her fault.

But she didn’t want him going along with this just because he had something to prove. He could try to play it off all he liked, he could assure her as much as he liked, but she knew that he was nervous about allowing magic anywhere near his heart. Given his history, she would have been surprised if he hadn’t been.

“You don’t have to do this to prove a point, you know,” she told him softly.

He looked back at her, eyes steady on hers. “I’m not,” he said. “It needs to be done, and you’re the one I trust to do it. I would have given you the same answer yesterday, or a week ago.”

She knew him well enough by now to know that he meant it, and she had to swallow. Even with all that history, both ancient and recent, he was still willing to allow this -- as long as she was the one to do it. Just as he’d asked her to help him put his heart back after that close call in the clocktower, even though it was her first time trying such a thing.

Because he trusted her.

She hadn’t realised how important that trust was to her until she’d thought that she didn’t have it. But now, anger vented and apologies made and explanations given, she was at a loss. She understood. The problem was that she didn’t know how to tell him that. She had no idea how to fix this kind of thing. She’d never had to, before. She’d always run.

But she couldn’t run now. She didn’t want to. Not from him.

“Right,” she said. “Just making sure. Because... I know.”

He understood; the corners of his mouth tipped up in a smile. “Good.”

“Touching as this is,” Regina interrupted, “can we please get on with it?”

“Right.” Emma hesitated, with another glance at Killian.

“You can do this,” he told her, and raised an eyebrow. “You’ve gotten rather good at listening to your own heart. _And_ you returned mine to me, remember? You’ll do fine.”

“Okay, pep talk done? Good. Then let’s get on with it,” Regina said, all business. “Put your hand over his heart so you can feel it beat.”

She reached out with her left hand and placed it on Killian’s chest, tugging his waistcoat and the charms he wore around his neck out of the way. His shirt was half-unbuttoned as usual, the hem crinkling beneath her palm as she placed her hand on thin fabric and warm skin. She could feel his pulse -- slightly faster than normal, she thought. It sped up a little more beneath her palm. It wasn’t all nerves, she knew, as her own heart beat a little faster too.

Damn him, anyway.

 “You have it?” Regina asked.

Emma nodded. “Yeah.”

“All right, now focus on it. Remember, magic is about feeling. It’s easier to concentrate when you have a physical sensation to focus on. It can act as a sort of anchor.” Briefly, Emma wondered whether Regina realised how easily she slipped into the role of teacher these days. Not that she was about to tell her so.

“Feel it beat,” Regina went on. “Hear it. Listen for an echo, and if you find one, focus on that. It won’t tell you the location, but you should be able to get images, feelings, smells... an overall sense of the place.”

“Okay.” Emma cleared her throat, and tried to concentrate.

It took a moment. The fact that she was sitting on the bed beside Killian Jones with her palm over his heart was more distracting than she wanted to admit. His chest hair tickled at her pinky finger, coarse and soft at once, and she had to resist an urge to move her hand and run it up his chest and over his collarbone. He was watching her, too, his eyes bright glints of blue beneath dark lashes, and his mouth curved into a slight smile.  _That_  brought out the dimple in his cheek, which didn’t help matters.

She closed her eyes so that at least she couldn’t see him. That helped a little, and with a little more effort, she managed to push the distracting thoughts to the side and focused instead on the regular beat of his heart. The warm glow inside her that she’d come to recognise as magic seemed to glow a little more in response, sharpening her senses.

She hadn’t expected anything. But after a few minutes, without any conscious effort, she heard it: a distant echo of Killian’s pulse. She frowned and focused on it, trying to isolate the sound and follow it. A pungent odour assaulted her, and she got a distinct impression of darkness and quietly simmering, shivering anger—

And just like that, she _knew_.

Her eyes flew open. “No.”

“What?” Regina demanded.

“The kraken,” Emma said slowly, her throat dry.

“What?” Regina said again. “Wait, you—how do you know?”

“I just do,” Emma said, frowning at her. “Wasn’t that the whole point?”

“Well, yes, but I didn’t think you’d—” She broke off, but not before Emma realised that she’d just impressed Regina Mills, one of the most powerful sorceresses out there. “Never mind. So it’s wherever the kraken is? That narrows it d—”

“No.” Emma swallowed. “It’s _in_ the kraken.”

“ _In_  the—?” Killian had tensed when she’d first spoken; now he sank back, looking up at the ceiling with an expression she knew well. “Bugger me.”

“Yeah.” Emma ran a hand over her forehead. “I didn’t see that coming. I probably should have, but I really didn’t.”

“Me neither, love.” Killian heaved himself upright, scooting around behind her and swinging his legs out of the bed so he sat beside her. “Bloody clever, though.”

“You realise this means we’re going to have to go up against the kraken, right?” Emma asked him.

He leaned away from her a little, the better to look at her. The expression on his face was somewhere between resignation and fondness, an odd combination, but one she’d come to know quite well. “To be perfectly honest, love, I had rather low expectations of getting through this particular adventure without having to face the beastie.”

The word gave Emma pause. “That’s what you’re gonna call it? Really?”

He frowned. “That’s what it is.”

_He never saw the movie_ , Emma reminded herself. Henry had wanted to show it to him, but after this, Emma thought that they might be giving it a miss after all. “Never mind.”

But it was on everyone’s minds when they reconvened to discuss their next move.

“How did they do it in ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’?” Snow asked her husband.

“Elizabeth cuffed Jack to the mast and left him as bait for the kraken,” David said, his tone suggesting that firstly, Snow really ought to know this, and secondly, he didn’t think much of that as a plan.

“That sounds like a tactic for Swan,” Killian commented.

“She... is actually called Elizabeth Swann.” David frowned, but there was a little too much amusement in his eyes for Emma’s taste. “I can’t believe I never made that connection until now.”

“There’s no connection,” she said, eager to steer the conversation away from this topic. “And we are  _not_  using ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ as an instruction manual. No one’s getting left as bait.”

“Actually, it’s not a bad idea,” Regina spoke up for the first time.

Killian narrowed his eyes. “It sounds rather unappealing to me.”

“Keep your shirt on,” she told him. “I’m not talking about you. I’m the one with the mark.”

David looked confused. “You want Emma to cuff you to a mast and—”

“Oh for crying out loud, Charming, would it kill you to  _think_  occasionally?” Regina snapped. “Of course I don’t want to be cuffed to a mast. I just mean that since I’m marked, it’ll come after me. Meaning I can lure it out.”

“Where we can fight it.” Emma nodded. “If we do it right, that might actually work.”

Belle pursed her lips, looking worried. “It won’t be easy to kill.”

“We don’t have to kill it,” Emma said. “We just have to get Davy Jones’ heart. Maybe we can knock it out like we did with the giant.”

“Ah yes, another plan that ended with me shackled to something,” Killian said with a sigh. “ _And_  with you fighting the giant, as I recall, since he didn’t remain knocked out for very long.”

His tone raised Emma’s hackles, just a little. “Maybe if you’d spent more time looking for the compass and less time getting distracted by—”

“Oh-kay, what do we think?” David interrupted. “Can we knock it out?”

“We can try.” Regina didn’t look convinced. “But I doubt it’ll be that easy. Belle, was there anything in the books about fighting a kraken?”

“I haven’t really had time to check,” Belle said. “I’ll keep looking. But—wait. What about a net of some kind? Maybe a magical one?”

“We could try freezing it, too,” Emma suggested. “But I guess there’s no way to be sure it’ll work.”

“So let’s get back to the books,” Snow said. “We need a way to open that gate, anyway. We might as well use the time to try and figure out a plan of attack.”


	6. Chapter 6

“This isn’t working!” Emma yelled as Regina launched yet another fireball at the beast which thrashed all around them. She grabbed the queen’s arm and yanked her out of the way of a tentacle wider than her car, bracing herself against a wall.

The first part of the plan had worked just fine. Regina had made a potion that would open a portal to the underworld, and given them all a vial of it. At Killian’s recommendation, they’d headed to the docks, where the piers and railings would allow them to get close to the Kraken, and Regina’s appearance had lured it out almost immediately.

Unfortunately, nothing seemed to be able to actually hurt the damn thing.

She spun around as David was knocked off his feet and flew through the air, stumbling towards the edge of the pier. But Killian had already dodged the tentacle that had caught the prince and lunged forward. There was a flash of curved silver, and David steadied before falling back against the pirate.

“Suggest we fall back and regroup!” Killian shouted. “We need a new strategy!”

“No!” Regina was back on her feet, her jaw clenched as she tried ice this time – a less familiar spell, as she said, but she’d learned a thing or two from watching Elsa. It made the kraken wince back, but showed no more effect than that. “There’s got to be a way!”

Emma slid a new cartridge into her gun and looked around, waiting for the next attack. In the brief lull, David and Killian made their way back over to the two women, swords at the ready – just as useless as guns and magic, so far.

Her phone vibrated. “Now? Really?”

She’d only just glanced at the display when there was a splash and an explosion of water and splinters had her ducking back. “It’s Belle!” she shouted. “Dad, she might have something!”

She handed the phone to her father and lined up her gun. Two shots had the beast drawing back again, but another tentacle immediately took its place. She was vaguely aware of David talking behind her as she and Killian wordlessly took up the task of defending him. Regina set the far edge of the pier ablaze, and the kraken responded with an unholy roar.

Above her, part of the roof and wall collapsed under the new onslaught, and she gritted her teeth and diverted some of her attention to her magic, flinging the debris away from herself and her team.

And then she heard Regina scream, and whipped her head around just in time to see a tentacle wrap around her and drag her away.

She turned to Killian, met his eyes. “Help David,” she told him, and took off after Regina.

The gun was out of the question this time. Instead, she reached for her magic. Between the desperation, anger, and fear of battle, there was plenty of emotion to fuel it, and she hit the kraken with a fireball that even Regina would have been proud of.

Ahead of her, Regina fell to the deck and began to get back to her feet, a little unsteady but otherwise fine.

“Regina!” Emma called, skidding to a stop. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, I can handle a little—” Regina’s eyes widened as they slid past Emma to something behind her. “Watch out!”

Emma whirled, but it was too late. Something big and black loomed in her vision, she was flung backward, and everything went dark.

 

*  *  *

 

“Swan!”

“Emma!”

Killian wasn’t sure who sounded more desperate, he or David, but he didn’t have time to even consider going after Emma as a tentacle burst out through the planks between them. He slashed at it, sending it back into the water, but another caught him from below and he barely managed to catch a crossbeam with his hook as he flew through the air.

For a moment he hung there, anchored by the hook, unable to release his hold on the beam. He had to shove his sword back in its sheath before he could reach up with his good hand instead, freeing his hook and letting go. He landed unsteadily, pain shooting through his feet and legs and making him hiss.

Another tentacle was already writhing towards him. Raising his arm instinctively, he felt it hit the hook, and slashed. This time, he was rewarded with the sight of broken skin as the Kraken drew back its tentacle. Another roar made the planks beneath his feet vibrate.

He looked around for Emma, but what he saw instead was Davy Jones, standing a few meters away on the dock. The man didn’t move; he was just watching, his attention on Regina. And behind Regina lay a too-still form, blond hair spilling over the deck.

He started forward—

“Hook!” David caught onto his shoulder. “Belle says there might be another way.”

“Emma’s—”

“I know, but if we want to help her, we need to kill him!” David’s eyes were on the far side of the pier, too, where Regina was making a stand and defending his daughter. Emma was moving, Killian noted with relief: not much, but she seemed to be coming to. “We can’t get the heart, but there’s another chance.”

“What? How?”

“Stab him with a blade coated in his blood – or your blood, since it’s the same. Then I open the gate, and take him through with me,” David said.

Killian finally focused on David, really looked at him. That didn’t sound good. “ _With_ you?”

“Apparently, you need someone living to bring someone who’s already dead,” David said, already raising his sword. “Come on. Hold out your hand.”

“Now, let’s think on this a second,” Killian protested, his first instinct to stall, to win some time to think. “You can’t just go leaping into the land of the dead!”

“We don’t have time to argue!” David shot back. “It’s our only hope to save Emma, to save everyone!”

He was right, Killian knew. But he wasn’t right about all of it.

It didn’t have to be David.

 “You stab him,” he said. “ _I’ll_ take him through.” David opened his mouth, but Killian didn’t give him time, raising his own voice to talk over whatever the prince might have said. “ _You’re_ the one with the newborn son, mate. _You’r_ e the one sharing a heart with your wife. They _need_ you here. You’re right, it has to be done, but it needn’t be you who does it. I'm the one who's not needed.”

“What about Emma?” David demanded. “What about—”

“Emma doesn’t need me, mate,” Killian cut him off, although his heart gave a painful little lurch at the thought of leaving her. Especially now. There were still a million things he wanted to see, say, do... “Not like your family needs you. And we really _don’t_ have time to argue. I’ll serve as distraction so you can stab him, and then I’ll take him to the underworld.”

Something in his face or voice must have gotten through, because David gave him a hard look and then nodded. “Right. Let’s do this.”

Killian took David’s sword and drew the blade across the back of his arm, gritting his teeth as the metal cut through skin. He handed the bloody blade back to David and nodded at the other man. “Good luck, mate. Tell Emma—just tell her why. And I’m sorry.”

David gave him a smile that looked like it took considerable effort. “I will.”

The kraken seemed to be focusing most of its efforts on Regina now, and Davy Jones’ attention was on her as well. Killian and David ran along the pier, David cutting to the left as they approached.

“Oy!” Killian yelled, brandishing his blade. “You old sea fossil! Leave off the lady and face me, if you’ve got any guts left!”

That got the man’s attention. He whirled around, brows drawing down in that wrinkled grey face, his hand going for his own sword. “You should not get involved. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Too late for that, mate,” Killian said, settling his sword into en garde position. “I’m about as involved as can be.”

Jones smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. “More fool you.”

He hit with surprising strength, knocking Killian back with his first blow. The kraken lashed out, too, and Killian ducked as a tentacle tried to sweep him aside. He grinned at his enemy. The more attention on him, the less to spare for the others.

He danced back from another swing, parried another, then stepped back again.

“Picked a bad spot for it,” the gravelly voice taunted him. “Not far to the water’s edge, lad.”

There was movement behind him. Killian grinned again, cocked his arm back, and threw his sword at Davy Jones. Puzzlement turned to rage as the man batted the blade aside only to find another protruding from his chest.

“Now!” David yelled, and there was a flash of bluish purple that settled into a steady glow.

Killian was already running. He hit Davy Jones full-on, felt his hook catch on the man’s coat, and then the purple glow closed around them. There was a flash, a sensation like his heart being torn from his chest, and he fell out of the world into darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

When the darkness receded a little, it left him lying on the ground. Killian reached out with his good hand and found that he was lying on what felt like moss-covered stone. It was still mostly dark, a gloomy sort of dusk that reminded him of rainy, clammy days on board the _Jolly Roger_.

He got his elbows under him and pushed off the ground, twisting his head to look around. Davy Jones, he noted with some relief, was nowhere to be seen. Mostly, he just saw rocks: boulders strewn about covered in strange grey-blue moss, a cliff to his left, cracks and fissures in the rock on the ground. Darkness hung over the bleak landscape like an odd sort of fog. It felt like he had something in his eyes, but when he rubbed at them and blinked, the feeling remained.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. There hadn’t been much time to think about it, but he’d had a vague sort of thought that he was going to die.

Perhaps he had.

He got to his feet, looking down at himself as he dusted off his jeans. He was still dressed in the same clothes he’d worn since getting changed at the loft, the red and white on David’s shirt oddly bright in these drab surroundings. It was still damp, too, as were his jeans, and his boots, and his hair.

“Bloody water,” he muttered. He’d loved the sea for most of his life. Lately, it seemed to have turned against him.

So much for loyalty.

It was as though his voice had broken through something, because he became aware that he was not alone. It was nothing more than a feeling, instincts honed by a long life where knowing when someone was behind you was a valuable skill. Looking around, he saw nothing, and he heard nothing either. His own breath was loud in his ears, and it sounded wrong, out of place.

But he could feel them, shadowy things all around him, just barely out of sight. He turned this way and that, but still, he could see nothing. The only sound was his own breath, his own heart, and the scuffle of his own feet on the ground. Had it not been for the tingling at the back of his neck and the fact that he’d spent a lifetime honing these instincts, he might have convinced himself that he was alone. As it was, he felt like he was standing in the middle of a huge room, all eyes on him.

He couldn’t help wishing that he had his sword, but he did still have his hook, and no one had attacked him yet. He squared his shoulders and pushed his discomfort aside. He was Captain Hook. He was used to being the centre of attention.

And it was time to figure out just where he was, and more importantly, how to leave. He didn’t much fancy staying here, amidst rocks and shadowy things at the edge of his vision. If this was the underworld, surely there was more to it than this.

He climbed over and around a few boulders and noted with some concern that a few of the cracks in the rock glowed with a foreboding red light. Peering down into one, he saw a bright orange-red mass roiling below and felt heat on his face and through his boots – lava.

“At least it'll be warm,” he told himself, mostly just to say something, but the way his voice broke the silence only made it worse.

He crossed the fissure carefully and kept looking until he found what looked like a path of sorts, winding forward past rocks and boulders and disappearing into the gloomy murk beyond.

For a moment, he stood there and looked at it, then back over his shoulder at the place where he'd arrived. But there was nothing there. If there was a way out, it wasn't the way he'd used to get in.

Something else occurred to him, and he dug in his pockets. The first thing he found was Emma's telephone, tucked into his jacket pocket after he'd found it on the walkway. He ran a careful finger over the screen, but it stayed dark. He tapped it, then shook it, then tried pressing the one button he found, but to no avail. It looked completely dead.

Sliding it back into his pocket, he resumed his hunt for something to write with. It was a long-ingrained habit to carry such things with him, and one he was glad of now as he retrieved a short pencil and a receipt from Granny's. The habit of writing himself notes as insurance against forgetting was a newer one, but after escaping two memory-loss curses, he wasn't about to start trying his luck. Better safe than sorry. Hunkering down, a he scrawled a quick note to himself and tucked it safely into his jeans pocket.

He felt better for it. It felt like an anchor to the real world.

Running his fingers over his hook and putting a little extra swagger into his step, Killian strode forward into the gloom.

 

*  *  *

 

When Emma woke up, it was with some surprise that she even had to. The last thing she remembered was fighting the kraken until it had relented, something drawing its attention away... and then the dark shape she’d been fighting off had come slamming back.

 There was a hollow feeling in her chest. Something was wrong.

Her eyes snapped open. She was lying in the bed downstairs in the loft, covered with a blanket that smelled faintly like her mother’s perfume. Shoving it away, she sat up and had to blink away the dark spots that tried to encroach on her vision again.

The others were in the dining area: Ariel and Eric side by side at the table, Snow in her favourite chair with baby Luke in her arms, David leaning against the kitchen island.

The hollowness in her chest expanded and sent a little pang of dread into Emma’s stomach. “Where’s Hook?”

Everyone’s heads turned toward her. “Hey,” David said, his voice gentle as he pushed away from the counter. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Emma said, knowing that it was a lie. “Just tell me. What happened?”

“You were knocked out,” David said. “The kraken—”

“Dad!” Emma snapped. “Where’s Killian?”

He faltered mid-stride, but he joined her on the bed anyway. And he told her.

Killian was gone.

For a moment, Emma just stared at her father, eyes open but not really seeing. It explained why the kraken had suddenly relented, the analytical part of her brain told her. And it explained why she felt so hollow, like she’d lost something important.

Killian had taken Davy Jones to Hades. The underworld.

Where people went when they died.

  1. She felt her fists clench. Not him. Not now.



“After that, you blacked out, so we brought you back here,” David went on. “Regina said you had a concussion and gave you something to heal it. She said you’d be asleep for a while, but that you’d be fine when you woke.”

That last was almost a question, but Emma didn’t care about concussions right now. “How long?”

“We got back here at around five, I think,” David said. “It’s almost ten now. In the evening,” he added, as if that wasn’t obvious from the drawn curtains.

Five hours, Emma thought dully. He’d been gone for five hours.

Anger, grief, pain, other feelings she couldn’t even name, all tumbled around inside her. The anger floated to the top and found its way out in a single word. “Why?”

The sound of her own voice seemed to open something, because more words followed. “Why did he do that? Why would you _let_ him? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“It was the only way—” David started, but Emma was already shaking her head.

“We were going to get the heart. That was the plan! Get the heart and stab it, remember?”

“It was toolate for that! We were no match for that thing even before it knocked you out.”

“It didn’t knock me out,” Emma insisted, feeling tears sting at her eyes. _No, no, no_. “I was working on it, damn it, Dad—”

He was there now, his arms coming around her, and she beat her fist against his chest as she all but fell against him. The tears stung their way past her eyelids and seeped into David’s shirt. Her father’s hand cradled her head, pulling her closer, and she didn’t have it in her to pull away again.

“I’m so sorry,” David said. “I wish I could have gone instead. I’m sorry.”

That was her father, right enough, regretting that he hadn’t been the one to sacrifice himself. It only made her cry harder, because it shouldn’t have happened at all. If she’d been faster, stronger, in better control of her magic...

_Just like Graham_ , her memory whispered. _Just like Neal._ Only this time, she hadn’t even been there.

Movement whispered at her other side as Snow came over to join them, taking Emma’s hand and leaning against her shoulder. For once, she didn’t say anything, and Emma was grateful, because any encouraging words about hope and faith and she was going to punch something.

She clenched her teeth. She’d only just found him, _really_ found him. They’d been through so much together already, and she’d begun to believe that he’d really stick around. But no, he just had to play hero and sacrifice himself—

“Do you think he’s really gone?” Snow asked.

“What?”

“Snow—” David began, but Snow seemed to be determined to say her piece.

“It’s just that, we thought Neal was gone after he fell through that portal,” she went on. “And then it turned out that he wasn’t.”

Emma’s first reaction was a new surge of anger. Maybe she really was going to punch something. “Neal didn’t go to Hades,” she said, surprised that she sounded almost calm. “You heard Regina. You can’t bring someone back from there.”

“Not from the dead,” Snow said. “But Hook didn’t die, did he?”

Emma stilled. That thought hadn’t occurred to her.

Her first reflex was to lash out, deny it, even yell at her mother for encouraging false hopes yet again. Hope led to disappointment and pain and heartbreak.

But she suppressed the impulse when something else occurred to her: she had nothing left to lose. She’d already lost him. Her heart was already broken, and though it didn’t hurt that much yet, she knew that it would once the hollowness inside her receded a little. It couldn’t get any worse.

And if there was even the slightest chance that Killian had survived...

_I’ve yet to see you fail._

She pushed away from her parents and swiped at her eyes. “No. You’re right. He didn’t. And I’m going to find him.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Ariel, who sat quietly with baby Luke in her arms. Beside her, Eric was leaning over the boy with a smile, although they both looked rather sombre and worried.

But Emma remembered seeing them look very different, and it gave her an idea. She stood, leaving her parents to sit on the bed. “I’m going to find him right now.”

They exchanged startled glances. “Wait, whoah,” David said. “Find him how?”

Emma was already standing in front of the mirror, the big one she’d used to check on Ariel and Eric before. “This showed me the Enchanted Forest before,” she said. “There’s got to be a way of making it show other realms.”

“Should we call Regina?” Snow asked.

“Let me just try it.” Emma narrowed her eyes, thinking back to the last time she’d done this. She’d focused on wanting to see Ariel and Eric, not any specific location, and directed her magic according to that want, that feeling. She’d struggled at first; they were both strangers, which made them much harder to pinpoint.

By rights, then, this ought to be easier. Emma pressed her lips together, let her eyes fall closed, and focused on Killian Jones.

She heard Snow’s intake of breath behind her as she squinted one eye open again, and then both her eyes widened at the sight before here.

It was blurry, as though veiled with a dark, swirling fog, but she could make out a familiar figure. He was hunched down on the ground, bent over something she couldn’t make out, but it was definitely Killian. She caught the glint of his hook as he straightened up again, and she took an involuntary step towards the mirror when he began to walk away. He walked slowly and seemed to be picking his way with care; she couldn’t make out anything specific, but from his movements, the ground was uneven.

She tried to focus more, but the relief and other warring emotions crashing through her was too distracting. But it was enough. She released her hold on the mirror, and let out a shaky breath.

“He made it!” David came up beside her, hugging her to his side, a smile splitting his face. “He actually made it.”

“He’s alive?” Ariel asked from behind them, and Emma turned to see her smiling, too. “Really?”

“Looks like.” Emma strove for a casual tone, but she couldn’t help grinning right back at them both. “Now we just have to figure out a way in.”


End file.
